A Healing Touch
by merlinishness1
Summary: Alternative and additional scenes from 5.02. Arthur is severely beaten by Ragnor and his men while he and Merlin are being taken to Morgana as prisoners. A generous amount of hurt/comfort and banter ensues.
1. Chapter 1

Author Notes

Spoilers: 5.01 and 5.02 (Arthur's Bane, Part 1 and Part 2), mention of 1.03 (The Mark of Nimueh)

Rated M for violence and Pre-Merthur.

Disclaimer: No money is being made from this story, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I don't own the boys (sure wish I did). I just take them out to play with now and again.

This story was written in response to this prompt from rocknvaughn on the Arthur_Whumping community on Live Journal:

AU set in 5.02. After catching Merlin and Arthur talking, Ragnor gives Arthur a much more serious beating than shown in the show. (Arthur in serious pain but *not* a concussion, but like some sort of broken bones...like in his sword arm perhaps so he cannot help fight his way free?) Now Merlin must figure out how to rescue them both from Morgana's (and Ragnor's) clutches and help heal his friend, knowing full well he may not be able to do it without revealing his magic to Arthur. Appreciative!Arthur giving some respect where it is due and hopefully some BAMF!Merlin if it is a reveal fic. :)

Well, I haven't made this a reveal!fic, and I've spent much more time on hurt/comfort than having a BAMF!Merlin resolve how to defeat Morgana. I hope this is still a satisfying fill for the prompt. This is my first fan fiction of any kind. I am obsessed over the Merlin show and writing fan fiction seems a good way to get these additional stories out of my head. I have not done any creative writing in over (mumble, mumble...twenty) years. I have rediscovered that I am still pretty hopeless punctuating quotations correctly. I have tried to restrain my normal tendency to use ellipses obsessively, but the em dash has made frequent appearances as compensation, no doubt.

All that is to say, please be kind, and if anyone would like to beta for me or Brit-pick, I would be most appreciative. Constructive criticism is welcome via PM or email, please. Mordred is not evil in this story just because I can't bear the thought that Arthur's future will be ended too soon by Mordred. I'm hoping the show's producers are going to give us a happy ending, and not come to a sad conclusion at Mordred's hands as called for in the Arthurian Legend.

I made use of the web site . / for help with the Old English spells. Since my understanding of language tenses is quite sketchy, I can only say what I think these phrases mean or were meant to convey. If you can correct me, please do PM me or email me. The ASCII art used as a chapter separator was generated at the website . .

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Chapter 1

His fingers were stiffening in the cold. He could barely bend them to clutch at the leather bindings tying him to the rope behind the wagon. The wagon relentlessly rolled on, dragging him behind, even though he could hardly keep on his feet. He glanced sideways at Merlin. So far, the clumsy oaf had not tripped nor fallen, amazingly enough, but Arthur could tell he was tiring and his bright red cheeks showed he was feeling the cold as much as Arthur.

With the rapid pace Ragnor was setting, and nothing to eat for two days, he'd need to come up with an escape plan quickly, or they would lose the strength to make the attempt. Not that Merlin had much strength to lose, of course-such a weakling.

Once Arthur had cobbled together a rough escape plan, he whispered it into Merlin's ear, closing with "Just go along with it."

"I don't know, Arthur. Is this the best option we've got?" he whined back.

Gritting his teeth, Arthur spat out, "This is NOT up for discussion, Merlin!" And to squash any further debate, he put the plan into action, yanking the stacked supplies off the wagon bed, using his lead rope. Merlin copied his actions, without any further argument.

As expected, Ragnor stopped the wagon, and guided his horse back to the first handful of prisoners, and dismounted. He focused his scowl on Arthur and Merlin.

"What the 'ell have you done, ya worthless scum?! I've 'alf a mind to kill the mighty King o' Camelot for making such trouble." With that, he unleashed a fierce punch directly into Arthur's gut, knocking all the air out of his lungs in one big "oof."

Breathe, just pull in some air, Arthur pleaded with his body. Before he could steady himself, Ragnor's knee to his groin turned his world even whiter than the surrounding snow, with more explosions of pain. He crumpled to the ground. So far, this escape wasn't going to plan.

Merlin threw himself at Ragnor's back, trying to bowl him over, even as Ragnor's boot stomped on Arthur's forearm. A horrifying crunch was heard, quickly followed by a sharp grunt from Arthur. With a roar, Ragnor threw Merlin off his back; the slight manservant was no match for sturdier slaver. Merlin fell back into the arms of one of Ragnor's men, who quickly hit Merlin's head sharply with the pommel of his sword, felling him to the snow, unconscious.

By this point, the rest of Ragnor's underlings had gathered closer to their leader. His lieutenant joined in the king-bashing by kicking Arthur in the back several times, while Arthur tried to curl his body around his no-doubt broken arm.

He then hauled Arthur up to his knees in front of the smirking Ragnor. "Well, how does the pretty king like being on his knees in front of our 'Lord' Ragnor?" the lieutenant mocked.

A casual voice intoned, "Is this really necessary?" Mordred had stepped to the rear of the wagon. "I'm sure the Lady Morgana won't take kindly to damaged merchandise. She's got her own plans for Arthur," he sneered.

Ragnor, not happy with the Druid interfering in his fun, narrowed his eyes as he looked Mordred over. He stepped closer to Arthur, speaking lowly. "Just so you don't forget, 'Your Majesty', who's in charge here," mocking Arthur's honorific. He landed a forceful blow to Arthur's face. The king fell back, blood pouring out of his nose. Arthur unsuccessfully tried to staunch the flow without moving his injured arm. All he could really do was to tip his head back to slow the flow of blood somewhat. Gods, now his nose was broken in addition to his arm. This really was not going as planned, not at all.

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Merlin felt the jolting movements first, and then heard creaking sounds as the darkness behind his eyelids started to lift. But it wasn't until he heard a low moan join the creaking sounds, that he chanced slitting his eyes open. Oww, the brilliant sunshine just made his headache worse. Maybe that was his own moan he heard. He peeked enough to determine he was on a moving cart-no, it was Ragnor's wagon, and the rest of the captured men were walking behind the wagon as he and Arthur had been before.

Arthur! Where was he? He had crumpled to the snow under the force of Ragnor's assault, just before Merlin passed out. A lot of good Merlin was in protecting him. The stubborn prat should have listened to him and headed back to Camelot once they'd been separated from the rescue party. Of course, it was Arthur's loyalty to his men, and his dedication and self-sacrifice for all of his people, really, not just his knights, that Merlin admired. Those traits would make him the great king he was becoming. Merlin just wished Arthur had stronger self-preservation instincts so he would be able to survive to accomplish all that his future promised. Well, that was Merlin's job, to protect him, so he'd better figure out what had happened to his king.

With a second, more determined effort to open his eyes, Merlin also turned his head and heard the moan again. He could see it had come from Arthur, also dumped on top of the supplies in the cart. He was still unconscious and his furrowed brow showed he was clearly in pain. Merlin pulled himself together enough to sit up and scoot closer to Arthur's prone position. His anxious check of the blond showed there was a fantastic amount of blood on his face and clothes, but no cuts or scrapes or even stab wounds to cause it. A bloody nose seemed the most likely reason for the copious blood loss, as it looked like Arthur was developing a nice pair of shiners and his nose grated a bit as a broken nose would, when Merlin gently touched it.

The forearm was definitely broken and swollen now, but it seemed to be a clean break and the skin wasn't broken. Even bound and asleep, Arthur clutched his arm close to his chest. Damn, it was his sword arm that was broken. More troubling was whether there were internal injuries. With the chilly temperature, he wanted Arthur kept as covered as possible for warmth, so he didn't check for bruises on his torso.

Judging from the angle of the shadows, he must have been out for at least two hours, and there wasn't much daylight left. The caravan would likely be stopping soon for the night.

Within another thirty minutes, Ragnor called for a halt and the camp to be set up for the night. Merlin leaned over Arthur and tried to rouse him, by shaking his good arm. "Arthur, wake up. Come on, your Royal Pratliness, we need to get out of the wagon. "

Arthur barely stirred. "Nnnnhh...hurts."

With a firm, but not too strong, slap to Arthur's cheek, he urged, "Clotpole, wake up! Remember we are prisoners here, you can't just have a lie-in." Not that Merlin enjoyed it (well, maybe a bit), but this was really called for in this sort of situation. A second slap to the other cheek seemed to do the trick, as Merlin then found his slim wrist encased in the tight grip of Arthur's left hand.

"Stop that, you idiot! I'm awake now. I don't need you adding to my injuries," Arthur huffed. His grimace told Merlin his pain was significant, but of course, Arthur merely pressed his lips into an unnaturally tight line. He started scuffling off the pile as the other prisoners came to move the supplies off the wagon.

As the darkness fell, with the only light coming from Ragnor's flickering fire and a pale sliver of moon rising, the temperature dropped further. Arthur tried to ignore the gnawing pit in his stomach from lack of food and the deep aches and continuous chill in his body by laying down and trying to sleep. His mind wouldn't stop churning over how to escape now that he was hindered with a broken arm. Merlin, of course, wasn't much help in offensive maneuvering (well, or even defensive maneuvering) and even less when it came to battle tactics or escape plans. Arthur, alone, needed to figure out another way out of this mess now. It wouldn't do to continue to rehash how he'd let his Knights down, how the rescue party had been attacked by Morgana. Now this escape had failed and he wasn't able to protect Merlin. He'd seen the red lump on Merlin's forehead from being struck unconscious. Funny enough, he hadn't moaned to Arthur about his head aching-guess he figured no way to skive off his chores here. Arthur dropped into a fitful sleep with thoughts of Merlin and how moody he had been recently. Like telling him they shouldn't go to Ishmere, that they should return to Camelot even though Arthur was sure his men were still alive in captivity. There had been no sign of his usual cheeky grin or much of a smile at all, even before they had been caught in the net trap. Arthur just couldn't figure out his manservant...there always seemed to be something a bit mysterious about him.

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Arthur's puzzling manservant was still sitting on the snow-covered ground and staring at Ragnor and Mordred as they sat close to the fire. He ignored Ragnor's attempt to bait him with the tossed bread that landed too far away to reach. Despite his aching head, he focused intensely on Mordred now that he recognized him from the seer's frightening vision of Arthur's death. The anguish he had felt years ago when he had been unable to choose Arthur's future over the Druid boy's death haunted him more fiercely now. Would he be able to change Arthur's ultimate destiny? He clung to the words of the Druid seer, "only if you act quickly can you change Arthur's fate" to reassure himself that at least his fate could be changed. If only Merlin knew what he need to do.

After most of the slavers laid down on their bedrolls for the night, Merlin was surprised to see Mordred stealing away from the fire to come close and crouch beside him. Regarding him warily, Merlin held his breath as Mordred reached inside his coat. Instead of the knife Merlin expected to see, Mordred removed two chunks of bread.

"Don't be quick to judge me, Emrys." Then Mordred switched to speaking in Merlin's mind.

"About 15 minutes' walk to the east you"ll find the river. Head south from there and you'll find a shepherd's hut. It will be deserted this time of year. Don't wait long before you leave or you'll lose what little moonlight there is." With that statement Mordred slipped a dirk out of his coat and gave it to Merlin, handle first. Not what Merlin was expecting, not at all.

Merlin looked into Mordred's face carefully, searching for answers. Could he be trusted? Maybe the hut would lead to a trap. He asked hesitantly, "But why are you doing this?"

Mordred met Merlin's gaze steadily, and his lips quirked up just a bit at the corners. He glanced over to where Arthur was sleeping fitfully. "He once saved my life. I owe him a debt. And you are Emrys." He stood and turned, striding back to the campsite.

Merlin made his decision. Even if the offered escape was a trap, it was better than staying captive here with a visit to Morgana tomorrow. They'd have a fighting chance at least. Now there was some food to give them more energy. He bit into the smaller portion of the tough bread and crept over to the huddle in the snow that was Arthur.

Closer now, Merlin could see the blond was shivering. Merlin pulled on his good arm and this time Arthur startled awake more quickly. Sure evidence that his cold and pain were only allowing him a light doze, not the deep restorative sleep he needed to heal. Yes, the risk of a trap was clearly outweighed by the need to get somewhere warmer and tend to Arthur's injuries.

"Arthur, we need to get away now. Can you stand and walk?" Merlin made quick work of slicing the bonds on his own hands and then Arthur's with Mordred's dirk.

"Wha'? Where that kn-n-nife c-c-come from?" he stuttered, still fraught with shivers.

Merlin sighed. He had no time for explanations, much less the arguments the royal prat always seemed to offer when Merlin had suggestions of his own. Just for once, he wished Arthur could recognize he wasn't a stupid clumsy oaf. He was perfectly capable of handling their escape, and so much more.

"Later." Merlin forced the second, larger piece of bread into Arthur's hand. "Eat this, you need to keep your strength up." He gave Arthur a serious look over, assessing his condition. He really looked a mess with the dried blood on his face and hauberk, but it was the shivering and the possible internal injuries that had him most concerned.

He slid his arm around Arthur's torso, trying to avoid his damaged right side, and pulled him to a standing position. Arthur swayed slightly, but as his vivid blue eyes became more focused, he steadied, and asserted, "'M okay."

Merlin thought that was pretty much a lie, but this was Arthur, so of course that is what he said. He slung the king's good arm over his shoulder and they lurched toward the covering darkness of the woods as quietly as possible.

After a few short minutes Arthur's weight sagged more heavily against Merlin. Merlin saw he was concentrating, looking down at his own feet, as if he was willing them to shuffle forward by sheer willpower alone. Merlin judged a bit of magic was worth the risk, and turned to look back over his shoulder, away from Arthur. His eyes flashed golden briefly and the tracks behind them faded to nothing but clear, pristine snow. Merlin allowed himself a little smile of accomplishment. Ragnor's men would not be able to hunt them down by following their path from the camp.

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	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Arthur felt the warmth soaking into his body, chasing away the chill that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his bones. He found himself laying on his back on a blanket-covered pallet of straw made up in front of the fireplace, which, thankfully, had a roaring fire burning. Where was he? He tried to sit upright, but changed his mind once his stiff aching muscles screamed in protest. He craned his neck from his supine position and found himself alone in a small, single-room hovel of some sort. The lone small window told him it was still nighttime. The last he could recall, Merlin had been holding him up as they moved through the woods to get away from Ragnor and his band. Where was Merlin now?

A moment later, the answer to his question walked in, bending his lanky form through the low doorway. Merlin broke into one of his cheeky grins when he saw Arthur, awake and peering up at him.

"Ah, you're awake now. Good." He set down the bucket of water and the small collection of kindling sticks he'd been carrying on the small table against the wall. As he knelt by Arthur, he inquired, "How are you feeling now?"

"Better...warmer certainly is better."

Merlin held out his own hands to warm them on the fire, and murmured his assent. "But we need to do something about your arm, and it looks like two of your ribs are cracked. What about your back? I can see the bruising on your skin, but I'm not sure if it is anything more than that."

Arthur shrugged, not answering and turned his gaze to the ceiling. Merlin frowned at him, urging, "I'm serious here, Arthur. You need to tell me as the Physician's Assistant, even if you won't tell me as your friend."

Arthur just snorted. Merlin was at his most infuriating at times like this, trying to order Arthur about. Arthur turned and buried his head in the blanket, making it clear to the idiot he wasn't going to continue the conversation. That should shut him up.

Merlin evidently was being particularly dense tonight and wasn't reading Arthur's body language. He always had trouble with any of Arthur's non-verbal signals. Merlin continued with "You know, Arthur, I won't think any less of you for admitting you are in pain. It doesn't mean you are weak."

Another snort from Arthur. "What makes you think I care what you think of me?" Of course, Arthur knew deep inside that Merlin's opinion was of utmost importance to him, but he could never let the manservant know that. He only admitted it to himself when Merlin got in one of those moods where he started saying Arthur would become Albion's greatest king. The rest of the time he was just clumsy Merlin, his foolish manservant, or so he told himself. A king shouldn't be concerned about his servant's opinions.

Merlin was especially persistent today. "Arthur, look,I know there is something wrong with you internally. There's blood in your urine."

"What? How would you know that? Have you been watching me pee?!" He turned to glare at Merlin while propping himself up on one elbow. Aghast, he demanded, "How dare you?"

With a pained sigh, Merlin shifted his gaze away from Arthur and into the flames of the fire. He muttered, "Well, I could hardly leave you to do it by yourself. You couldn't stand upright without my help."

Arthur narrowed his eyes into slits. "How could you tell there was blood? It's dark out there."

"There was snow on the ground, remember?"

"Oh." Exasperated at the truth of what Merlin said, the king plopped down flat on his back, shielding his eyes with his good arm. Not to avoid seeing Merlin's concerned (actually it looked almost fond, for some reason) expression, of course.

"So? How does your back feel?" Merlin repeated, returning to the subject Arthur was trying to avoid.

Arthur caved, quietly admitting, "There's some pain on the lower right side. Deeper than a muscle bruise or strain."

Merlin help him roll on his undamaged side and pulled his hauberk, gambeson and tunic up above his lower back. Just above the waist of Arthur's trousers, his long fingers gently touched the reddish-purpling skin, and he asked "Here?"

Arthur took in a quick breath at the touch, but still managed to utter a low, guttural assent, "Uh huh."

Lowering Arthur's clothing, Merlin directed, "Okay, let's get you out of your hauberk and put a splint on your arm."

Manhandling Arthur into a seated position, Merlin lifted the heavy mail off his body while trying not to jostle his broken arm. Arthur still took several sharp intakes of breath as the pain jabbed fiercely at him whenever his right arm was moved. Merlin helped him settle back down on the pallet and warned him, "This is going to get worse before it gets better. I have to straighten the broken bone before I can apply the splint."

Arthur nodded. He'd seen enough broken bones at tournaments and on the battlefield to know what had to be done and it wouldn't be pleasant.

Merlin began ripping strips off his neckerchief and set several aside. He looked over his collection of sticks on the table and brought several back over to Arthur. He explained, "The straightest two I'll use to form the splint along with the fabric strips from my neckerchief. These shorter ones I want you to hold in your fists, and this one, for your mouth, to bite down on. So you won't hurt yourself."

Arthur accepted the wooden sticks stoically and tried to prepare himself mentally for the pain that was coming. He closed his eyes and felt Merlin straighten his right arm and get a tight grip on it at the wrist and elbow. Then, there was just the white burning pain roaring through his mind. He could hear the screaming faintly in the background, only realizing as it didn't stop, that it was his own voice. Then the blinding white began to turn grey at the edges, which faded to black as he fell into the blissful silence of unconsciousness.

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	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Flinching at causing such pain for his friend, Merlin wiped a fine sheen of sweat off his own brow. Now that Arthur was unconscious, he made quick work of the splint so he could focus his attention on Arthur's more serious injuries. He didn't want to tell Arthur, but he feared the bloody pee and location of the internal pain could mean only one thing-one of his kidneys was damaged and that was a very serious injury indeed.

Healing with magic was still difficult for Merlin, despite the extra time and effort he had focused on learning healing spells. What with Arthur's penchant for dangerous missions as well as being a target for most of the disgruntled sorcerers in the kingdom, Arthur had more than his fair share of injuries and illnesses, magical or otherwise. So Merlin had made it a priority to improve his skills for healing with his magic. But it still wasn't something that came naturally to him as other forms of magic like protective shields or simple enchantments like those he used to do his chores.

Merlin also needed to walk the fine line between enough healing to ensure a good recovery and too much healing to cause suspicion as a 'miraculous cure.' He'd learned that lesson years ago when he healed Gwen's father, Tom from the sickness caused by Nimueh and the Afanc (1). At least Arthur's current injuries were not caused by magic. Arthur already clearly knew his arm was broken so he couldn't chance healing that. He rolled Arthur to his side again and placed his hand over the area of pain in his back Arthur mentioned earlier. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and whispered, "_Ic þe lánce þin lundlaga._"(2)

He pulled his magic from deep within, coalescing its strength and building its power, until he released it into Arthur. He could see the golden tendrils sinking through Arthur's skin, through his muscles and tendons until he saw it gently surrounding the damaged kidney, caressing it almost. Stroking it softly with his magic, he felt the organ's surface knit together until it was smooth and complete again. A gentle golden glow pulsed over Arthur's back.

He then uttered "_"Ic þe líhte inwærc_" (3) to ease Arthur's aches and pains slightly, just enough so Arthur would be able to sleep more deeply and allow his own body to help restore his health. Not enough to remove all the stiffness or to give Arthur cause to wonder at his recovery.

Lastly, he cast a warming spell, "_Hléownes_," (4) over Arthur so he would be comfortable despite the chill creeping into the hut and the lack of blankets and furs.

With a sigh, he recalled his magic back to his own body, feeling himself greatly weakened from the effort of the healing. The golden glow faded from the king's body. Merlin laid down beside Arthur, facing towards him, keeping his arm over Arthur's side, so his hand could stay in place over the site of the injury. Only then, did he allowed himself to give into his body's demand for sleep, at long last.

* * *

(1) Season 1 Episode 3, "The Mark of Nimueh."  
(2) Rough translation: "I heal your kidney."  
(3) Rough translation: "I lighten your pain."  
(4) Rough translation: "Warmth."

* * *

Sometime later, a poke nudged at Merlin's head, disturbing what had been a spectacular dream. He ignored the jab and returned to concentrate on the feel of fluttering kisses on his skin. He felt his body responding to the gentle touches of his imaginary lover.

The sharp prodding returned, along with an urgent hiss of "Merlin! Wake up now!"

Arthur's command startled Merlin fully awake, and he was aghast to realize he was draped over Arthur's body, his head pillowed on his chest, with one arm still clutching around Arthur's waist. He had one of his legs thrown in between Arthur's, and oh mercy, his body had been responding to that lovely dream in reality as well. He felt his hard cock firmly pushing into Arthur's thigh. Had Arthur noticed?

"Get off me, you buffoon!" Arthur shoved him off his chest with his good arm. Pawing at a wet spot on his gambeson, Arthur protested, "Damn, Merlin, you've been drooling on me!"

Merlin scrambled backwards away from Arthur, with his eyes looking down at the floor, anywhere but at Arthur. Gods, he was probably red from his ears on down with embarrassment.

Without thinking any further in his panic, he responded to Arthur's last comment with his usual banter, "Well drooling is better than snoring-less likely to wake up your luv-ah...uhm, well, partner," he finished lamely. He really need to think before he opened his mouth. How many times had Gaius told him that?

Thankfully, Arthur ignored the partner statement, and hadn't said anything further about Merlin invading his personal space as they had slept. Maybe he hadn't noticed Merlin's erection. Arthur just rose to the verbal challenge. "I do not snore, " he stated quite imperiously.

Merlin muttered almost to himself, "not what Gwen says" but tried to divert their conversation back to safer subjects. "So how are you feeling this morning? He chanced a quick glance up from the floor to Arthur's face. Arthur was now sitting upright on the straw, and his splint was still in place on the right arm. His face looked flushed, perhaps he was running a fever? Ah, no, more likely he was also embarrassed by Merlin's sleeping position. Well this incident would become one more of the many Things Of Which We Will Never Speak Again. But just to be sure, Merlin returned to Arthur's side and felt his forehead. It was not hot.

"No fever then. That's good. How's your arm?"

"Okay." Arthur mouth was set firmly, which Merlin knew meant he would tolerate no further discussion on the matter.

Merlin just mentally shook his head at Arthur's stubbornness. Again with the lies about his condition. The arm was still swollen and was surely still causing Arthur pain, despite the spells Merlin had cast last night. The enchantment to reduce the pain only offered temporary relief, and had probably worn off by now.

"I'll just rig up a sling from the rest of these cloth strips, and some snow packed on your sleeve for a bit should help reduce the swelling." Merlin continued his assessment of his patient's condition. "How's the pain in the lower back today?"

Arthur stretched his torso by bending side-to-side and then twisted right and left. "There are still sore and aching muscles but nothing much worse than training injuries. The lower back pain seems much better today, actually."

Merlin smiled, pleased that the healing spell had at least reduced the back pain. "Let me give you a hand and we'll see how well you can stand, okay?" Arthur rose to his feet, gripping Merlin' proffered hand. He steadied himself and took some steps cautiously. "It's good, I'm fine now." Merlin doubted that was true, but let it pass.

Merlin glanced around the hut, found the chamber pot, and kicked it over to Arthur's feet. Merlin sat down on the wooden stool by the table, and looked expectantly at Arthur, and waited.

A moment or two of silence passed. "What?" queried Arthur, shifting his gaze from Merlin to the chamber pot and back to Merlin, with a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean 'what'? You know what it's for. Go ahead and go."

"Not if you're just going to sit there and watch, I won't," Arthur declared stubbornly, shaking his head. Merlin continued to stare at him with a determined look on his face. Arthur's voice then took on a touch of pleading, "Some privacy here, Merlin."

Arthur usually wasn't so modest in front of Merlin. For him to plead with Merlin was also quite rare. But then Merlin realized Arthur's previous embarrassment over having woken up with Merlin curled over him like a lover, wasn't helping this situation now. Merlin explained, using his best physican's assistant tone, "I just need to see if there is still blood in your urine, to determine how badly injured you are. Nothing personal, Arthur. But if it makes you feel better, I'll go outside and collect some more water from the river and snow for your arm."

Arthur seemed to relax a bit at that. Merlin warned, "But when I get back, I'll check the contents of the chamber pot carefully."

"You do that, Merlin. You always have to clean them anyways," smirked Arthur, trying to return to their usual banter.

Merlin didn't rise to the bait, he just sighed and went outside. Sometimes Arthur could be such a prat. Why couldn't he realize that Merlin just wanted to protect him and help him achieve the dream of building Albion as a fair and just kingdom. Merlin had gotten them away from the slavers, and probably saved Arthur's life again with his magic. But Arthur still just saw Merlin as a mis-guided, fervently loyal servant whose purpose in life was to empty chamber pots. What did he ever do to deserve this fate entwined with Arthur's? 'Two sides of the same coin, eh? If so, his side of the coin was tarnished black beyond all recognition, and Arthur's side gleamed with the high shine of gold.

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	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

After Merlin finished collecting the snow outside the hut and the water from the river, he approached the door to the hut and knocked, "All done in there?"

Upon hearing Arthur's bellow of assent, he opened the door, and found him rummaging through the few supplies on the shelves in the hut. Sarcastically, Arthur turned and said, with one eyebrow lifted (had he picked that up from Gaius?), "Knocking, Merlin? What a surprise, you rarely do that in Camelot."

Merlin just shrugged, and walked over to glance in the chamber pot. Arthur watched him, and then turned back to the shelves and spoke, "No more bloody pee. I take it that's a good sign?"

Merlin presented Arthur's back with one of his wide grins. "Yes, very good indeed." His healing magic had worked to repair Arthur's kidney as he had visualized. He was almost giddy with relief-he had not realized how his fears of failing to heal Arthur's most serious injury had filled him with a gripping tension.

"Looks like our only choice for breakfast is porridge," sighed Arthur, holding out a small bag of oats he found on the shelf. "Better than nothing, I guess."

"While I make the porridge, why don't you wash up? I'm getting tired of looking at your bloody face."

"Oi!" Arthur replied indignantly.

Merlin clarified, "I mean, your face covered in blood. You know," he gestured at his own nose. "From the nosebleed."

"Oh, I guess I forgot about that. " Arthur gently touched his nose, wiggling it. "It's broken. Not much can be done to treat that, right?"

With a smirk, Merlin replied, "No. Just don't touch it or wiggle it."

Arthur tried to snort and scrunch up his nose at the same time and immediately regretted it. "Oww."

Merlin couldn't resist adding, "Don't do that either." Arthur just responded with a glare.

After cleaning up his face the best he could with the cold water and what was left of Merlin's neckerchief, Arthur sat down to eat the porridge. "Now tell me how you managed to get a dagger last night so we could escape," he demanded between spoonfuls of the runny porridge.

Merlin grinned. "Yeah that was a pretty fabulous escape plan I came up with, wasn't it? You weren't much help, being mostly unconscious at the time."

"I was not. I distinctly recall standing and walking."

"Yeah, but how far?" Merlin taunted. He turned more serious then. "Actually it was Mordred who helped us. He said he owed you a debt for saving his life before. He gave us the bread and the dagger and told me how to find this shepherd's summer hut."

"Hmm, that is surprising. I figured he was here at Morgana's bidding, since the two of them were so close before."

Merlin continued, "Yes I was worried this might be a trap but took the chance rather than stay where we were. He told me not to be too quick to judge him. I really don't know what to think about him." He still couldn't shake the deep fear of the Druid seer's vision of Mordred killing Arthur on the battlefield from his mind. What role would Mordred play in the king's death?

"So this really wasn't your fabulous escape plan, Merlin, but rather Mordred's. He did all the thinking for you. As usual, you let others do the work for you," he teased.

Merlin countered with "Well, without me, we'd have never made it here to the safety of the hut. Likely, you be a frozen lump on the ground, dying from the cold and your injuries. Once again, I have saved your sorry arse!"

"Alright, I'll concede that point-the saving part I mean, since my arse is most certainly not sorry!"

Merlin definitely had no argument with that point, but wasn't about to admit anything of the sort to Arthur. But Arthur, amazingly enough, was recognizing Merlin had saved him this time. Merlin egged him on, cupping his ear as if staining to hear, with "I' m sorry, I didn't quite hear you say 'Oh Merlin, thank you for saving my life. You are so clever and talented, I never doubted you could save me!' " in his best imitation of Arthur's voice.

Arthur just sighed in response and stared into Merlin's face. "Well I must admit you did a good job this time. I, er, thank you...for getting us away and fixing me up." Clearing his throat with embarrassment, the King turned to the fire and prodded at the burning logs.

Merlin's mouth hung open as he stared at Arthur's back. Stunned first that Arthur had admitted Merlin had saved him, but now he was actually thanking Merlin too. Arthur almost never expressed his thankfulness to Merlin, for anything. Merlin shrugged, as speech had become difficult all of a sudden, with the large lump that had formed in his throat. Gods, were his eyes starting to moisten as well? Arthur oft-repeated comment was coming true-he was acting like a girl.

When his ability to speak returned, he replied, "You know, Arthur, that is why I am here, to protect you."

"So you've told me before. I must admit, I don't understand how or why." He rose from the fire and turned to look seriously at Merlin, still trying to understand him.

Clearing his throat, Merlin managed to add "You are my King, Arthur, and I believe in your vision for future. I do whatever I can to help you build it."

Now, Arthur himself seemed to be having an eye problem as well. He was blinking rapidly as if to clear some dust motes or something caught in his eyes. "Erhm, yes. Isn't it about time we started to Ishmere?"

"Ishmere? Don't tell me you are back on that idea again? We need to return to Camelot and come back with a larger force."

Arthur shook his head. "No, not when we are so close. I know some of the men are still alive. Who knows what Morgana will do in the next week or ten days that it would take to gather more men and supplies back in Camelot and return here. We have to go now."

Merlin, frustrated, pointed out, "Keep in mind, there are just two of us, and we only have three working arms and a small dagger among us. The odds aren't exactly in our favor."

Amazingly, Arthur just grinned. "Ah, but Merlin, my man, you are forgetting I can throw a punch with my left hand pretty much as easily as with my right. And you keep telling me you have these talents I fail to recognize-maybe it is time for you to use them. Maybe you can distract some guards with your fearsome juggling skills, eh?"

Merlin just slowly shook his head. Arthur had no idea what he was asking. However, it was Arthur's conviction, loyalty, and self-sacrifice that made him the man Merlin admired, so Merlin conceded. "Alright, Arthur, let's get ready to go." Merlin would be by his side to protect him, wherever he may go, whatever he might face.

_Geændung_

(Old English for 'The End')

¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º° ą ɦƹąŁɨɲǥ Ʈǿµȼɦ °º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸


End file.
